Page 57 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Chapter Twenty-Two

Coming out of the grave-like shaft had been easier than Elspeth had expected. They had cleaned up and tamped down the dirt they had displaced earlier and left a bag of money on top of the broken plinth. Then they had ridden in the twilight until they had put the village and Falkirk far behind.

They were on a hill now, camped at an outcrop that overlooked the valley below. Elspeth tended to the fire and gazed at the small fires down in the valley. They were signs of life, of homes, and quiet lives. Instinct told her to throw dirt on their fire and put it out. She felt oddly conspicuous and naked in its light. There were eyes in the dark night, and she was afraid of being found out.

Bruce was cleaning the Honors, his hands working deftly to remove as much dirt as he possibly could without the proper tools on hand. He seemed to be unaware of the dangers or her apprehensions.

“I still cannae believe my eyes,” he said, holding the scepter up to admire it. “The Honors, Elspeth. We have the Honors of Scotland. The release of our people from the yolk of the English is nigh.”

Elspeth smiled, but it was a weak imitation of her usual good cheer. She desperately wanted to believe him, but her heart told her danger was on the horizon. The Honors were venerated, and they demanded respect. He who held them would by rights rule over all of Scotland. But regalia that gave so much demanded just as much in return. The journey for Scotland would not be easy, and they would meet many hurdles, give many blood sacrifices before their dreams would become a reality.

She held her head in her hands, the thoughts pounding in her head, making her dizzy.

“Elspeth?” Bruce sat beside her, scepter still in hand. “What’s the matter?”

Though she had promised not to burden him with her worries, his tone was soft with concern, and she found herself speaking her mind. “I fear for you,” she said. “I fear for Scotland and what the English will do to us when they ken we have the power to crown our king.”

To Bruce’s credit, he put the scepter down and pulled her into his arms. “I understand yer concerns. Truth be told I had nae thought beyond finding the Honors. I am a little lost myself. We cannae simply call all the Laird of Scotland to gather and decide who will be the next king. It will take planning, and great thought.”

“We could leave for France.”

“Nae,” Bruce shook his head and glanced at the scepter. “It does nae feel right to take the Honors away from Scotland. They must stay here.”

“But where?”

“I have nae thought of that.”

“May I suggest something?” Elspeth asked, licking her lips.

“Aye,” Bruce said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears.

“We should go to Blair Atholl.”

Bruce looked taken aback. “Why?” he asked. “I ken ye miss home, but we cannae abandon the mission now that we have the Honors.”

Elspeth was a little hurt that he had assumed she was running away from the responsibility they had been presented with. “It is true that I miss home, but that is nae why I suggest we go there. Domnhall is nae known for his daring, but ye can trust that he will give ye sage advice that avoids bloodshed and ensures yer survival. He’s good at that, my brother.”

Bruce seemed to consider her words. Elspeth felt a little betrayed. She had already started feeling like she was not important to Bruce now that he had found the Honors and a new mission had emerged on the horizon. His assumptions about her and his disregard of her suggestion were also grating on her tense nerves.

Elspeth was thinking of all these things when she thought she heard something: the clatter of a rock being disturbed by a foot. She looked toward the road they had traveled to come up the hill. Squinting in the dark, she stared at the shadows, trying to discern if someone was there. But the road was empty. Yet, the sneaking suspicion that they were being watched intensified.

“Elspeth,” Bruce said, distracting her. “Yer suggestion is sound. We should go to Blair Atholl and consult with Domnhall. There is more than the Honors I wish to discuss with him.”

Elspeth frowned, confused. “Yer passage to France?”

“Nae,” Bruce laughed, lifting her chin up so she was looking directly in his eyes. They captured the fire and burned with an internal passion. “I wish to ask him for yer hand, my love.”

Her pleasant surprise must have been visible on her face because Bruce kissed her lightly on the nose. “Were ye afraid I’d forgotten about ye in front of the Honors?” he teased.

“Nae,” she lied. “I was just anxious for the future.”

“My future is only with ye,” he said. “The Honors are for Scotland; they donnae belong to me. I will hand them to the rightful king, I still donnae intent to take up that mantle. My life is with ye.”

Elspeth laughed, much of her anxiety dispelled. Bruce would not hold on to the Honors; he would not risk his life fighting to be crowned king. The dark clouds that had swung low on her future now looked harmless.

“Domnhall would be happy to receive ye,” she said. “After he tries to kill ye for putting my reputation at risk.”

“I’m sure I can win him over,” Bruce said, smiling assuredly. “I heard he’s looking for a husband for ye. A handsome Laird like me will be a gift from the heavens for him,” he teased.